Winner entry of the Once Upon a December Contest by: Kat Jessup (KittyKatie135) 

"Julia, can I have a word?" Chase says hovering in the doorway to the church's back room. 

"Can it wait?" she replies, fussing over another hair pin. The reflection of his face in the mirror tells me it can't. He shakes his head. I hope they're not wasting time on trivial matters right before the biggest day of my life. While I wait in front of said mirror, I check my makeup. I'm not used to having these layers plastered to my face. It feels strange and unnatural, but both Julia and mum had wanted to go all out for my big day. Our big day, I should say. 

My eyes flicker down to the spiralling white lace that runs across my chest and down both arms. It's fitted to the waist, but from my navel down, it's a poofy marshmallow mess. It's not really a mess, though. I just prefer wearing jeans and a shirt, with a hoody to polish off my outfit. As the door cracks, I notice its reflection. Julia peaks at me before re-entering. Her eyes seem sad somehow. What the heck is going on? Did grandma die? 

Dragging over a chair, she sits by my side, holding my hand. Anxiety rises as I realise something indeed has happened. Her voice is gentle as she rubs the back of my hand. "Penny ... Pen, I'm so sorry..." She pauses as she sucks in a deep breath. Whatever this is, it's big. 

"Just spit it out already. My nerves can't take much more of this," I demand. 

Her eyes glisten as tears well. "Pen," her voice is almost a whisper. "It's Kyle." She pauses again. In the three seconds that follow my fiancée's name, my mind races to all the possibilities of why he's late; sick with gastro, caught in traffic, a car crash. "He's not coming." 

Well, shit! "What do you mean, he's not coming? What did his brother say?" 

Julia cringes. "Kyle texted him this morning. He said he can't go through with it." She stops, weighing her next words. "He said he wasn't certain that you're the 'one'." 

My temperature rises, spreading through my body like a virus. Emotions swirl before engulfing me; anger, sadness, disappointment. Fury. That asshole. Getting married was his idea. In fact, he had persuaded me to say 'yes'. Embarrassment takes hold. How the heck am I supposed to function in this town now? Everyone will gossip about this for months, years even. 

"Just breathe," Julia says. I've never been great at hiding my emotions, and as my best friend, she reads me like a book. 

"I don't want to breathe; I need an escape." My pulse races as anxiety heightens. "Where's the back door? There's no way I'm letting anyone see me like this; this God-awful mess he's created." 

"Listen, Pen. Do you remember that little cabin my parents took us to as kids?" I nod, wondering where she's going with this. "They still have it. Why don't you grab some things and head up there for a few days? Get your thoughts straight. Let the gossip die down?" 

"Ok," I say. "It's not like I have any money left after paying for this shindig. Are you sure they won't mind?" 

She nods. "You're like a daughter. Besides, they've always loved you. And Pen, this isn't your fault. We can go inside and tell everyone it was mutual. We can even say you were the one who cancelled. Just give it some time. Let the dust settle." I take a moment to think, which I should have done before agreeing to marry Kyle in the first place. 

"You're right. I'll get my things and go to the cabin. Thank you, Jules." We share a tight hug, and I'm relieved to feel her support. I have a friend who's got my back. I push those feelings back down. It's about time I focussed on something other than Kyle. 

The cabin remains just as I remember it, with only the evergreen forest that surrounds it appearing wider and taller. They're beautiful, the way the snow cascades onto the branches, like icing dripping from a cake. 

Delving into my pocket, I retrieve out the key and unlock the door. The inside a mirror of the past; same old sofa, same old dining table, same old bookshelf. The familiarity of it all brings a much-needed smile to my face. Moving towards the back of the cabin, I enter the room we used as kids. The two single beds remain unchanged, while Julia's parents had their own room. Leaving the kids' room, I open the second door to a more appealing sight; a queen-sized bed. Exactly what I need. Knowing the third and final door leads to the bathroom, I utilise it before returning to the combined kitchen, dining, and lounge room. 

Above the wood-burning fireplace, the mantle displays framed photographs spanning the years, alongside a box of matches. Igniting the fire, I return to my bag on the table, laying out groceries for the next few days. After extracting my laptop and a few books I'd been meaning to read, I toss the bag into the bedroom. 

As the fire gradually warms the little cabin, I recline on the couch with the first book. The fictional romance far outweighs my own recent tragedy, chuckling every so often at the casual comedy lining the pages. Eventually, with weary eyes, I succumb to sleep as the fire crackles. 

Hunger pangs wake me, shivering now the fireplace has sizzled. My eyes narrow to the watch on my wrist. It's six o'clock. I drag myself from the couch to the kitchen, filling the kettle before selecting a mug from the cabinet. While I wait for the water to boil, I glance out of the window, admiring the frozen beauty. Strange though; the sun is rising, not setting. I grab my phone, checking the day. Shit, it's Sunday morning, not Saturday evening. That explains my grumbling tummy. 

Deciding to switch my hot chocolate for coffee, I settle at the round table. Opening my laptop, I wonder what sort of shit show I'll find on Facebook today. Will my almost-wedding be the centre of small-town talk, or have they found someone else to gossip about yet? When the browser fails to connect, I check the Wi-Fi - nope, no signal. That's annoying, but probably for the best. I should be diverting my mind from drama, not actively seeking it out. 

I close the laptop, wrapping a throw around my shoulders, and step outside onto the small wooden deck. The brisk air nips at my face, yet the scent of pine renews me as I breathe it in. I settle on the top step, sipping my coffee while watching the dawn rise amidst the silence. 

For a moment, I think of Kyle, and how much he would love this place. But then I push that thought to the far reaches of my mind. Not today. I'm not ready to think about him yet. 

Sunday is a 'day of rest', the pastor always said. So, I elect to do nothing. Literally, nothing. 

I wander around the cabin, checking out the lake we swam at as kids, - strictly in the summer, of course, - before diving back into my novel. The peace and quiet is just what the doctor ordered. Once the sun sets, I curl up on the couch, watching a holiday romance on DVD. 

On the next day, I planned to do nothing again. Yet, serenity eluded me today. 

Whilst finishing a nice hot shower, a loud bang vibrates from the front door. Who the hell is that? Only Julia and my parents even know I'm here. I dry myself hastily, thrusting myself into jeans and a sweater, before sliding my feet into fluffy reindeer slippers. 

"Hello?" a man shrieks. Another bang rumbles against the cabin's door. 

"Hold on," I yell, hoping he'll stop banging before I get a headache. I nearly trip over myself rushing. 

Swinging open the door, I find a man wrapped from head to toe, with only his eyes peering out from under a beanie and a scarf obscuring most of his face. He clutches himself, shivering. His eyes look strange, and upon closer inspection, I realise its snow clinging to his lashes. How can even see where he's going? 

"Can I help you?" I inquire. 

He stammers. "M ... m... my car b... b... broke down." 

"My goodness. How long have you been out in the cold like this?" 

He shakes his head. "A f ... f... few hours, I th... think." 

I sigh. There's no way I can turn this guy away; he looks awful. The least I can do is give him a few minutes to warm up, dry off, and hydrate before I send him on his way. 

"Fine. Come in then." I concede, gesturing towards the lounge. "Sit by the fire before you die of hypothermia." I have enough on my mind. I don't want this guys death on my hands too. 

"Th ... th... thank you," he stutters. 

Observing him from the kitchen while sipping coffee, he crouches in front of the fire. Rubbing his hands together, he methodically removes his scarf and jacket. Second guessing myself, I worry for a moment; he might be a serial killer. You know the type of story. Girl alone in a cabin, stalker pretends he's lost, then bam - dead. 

"Soup?" I say, stirring the bubbling pot. "If you have enough. Thank you." At least he has manners. I'll give him that. 

I ladle the soup into bowls, placing them on the table. Retrieving two spoons, I hand one to the man who now stands by the table. Our eyes lock in silent exchange as I scrutinise him. My gaze remains fixed, watching a sly smile play on his face. 

"Penny?" he says, sounding both confused and delighted. 

I gulp with dread. "Chase?" 

He doesn't react to the terror on my face, nonchalantly he says, "So, this is where you've been hiding?" 

Is he smirking at me right now? He thinks this is funny, doesn't he? Well, screw that. 

"I'm not hiding," I retort sharply. "I'm avoiding assholes, like you and your brother." My brow furrows, eyes narrowing in on him. 

His smirk falters, and his face falls flat. His voice takes on a serious tone, one I've never heard from him before. "Don't compare me to Kyle. We're nothing alike." 

Speechless, all I can do is grunt. Admittedly, he has a point. Kyle and Chase are like chalk and cheese, but I won't admit that now. 

Wanting to avoid the topic further, I pour myself a glass of Moscato and grab my novel before settling at the other end of the couch. After an hour, I reach both the last page and the last sip from my glass. Placing the cup on the coffee table, I realise Chase is watching me, focussed intently. I ignore him, grabbing a new book and refilling my glass before returning to the comfy spot as before. 

As I read the preface, I glance up to find him smirking at me again. "Something I can help you with, stalker?" I emphasise the last word to reiterate my point. 

His smirk transforms into a wide grin. "I never pictured you for a sap," he says, gesturing to my book. 

Without thinking, I retort, "Shut up, Kyle." The moment I realise my error, he does too. Swiftly attempting to correct my faux pas, I whisper. "Sorry." 

 His frown subsides. "Why?" he says.

"Why what?" I reply.

"Why do you hate me so much?" 

I wriggle in my chair. This conversation is making me uncomfortable. We make eye contact in the silence as I contemplate the question. Sighing, I say, "I don't hate you, Chase. It's just..." I pause momentarily. "You look so much like him. It's hard to differentiate in my mind, I suppose." 

"You know I'm older, right?" he says indignantly. 

My shoulders shrug. "Does that make a difference?" 

"A lot, actually." 

Chase changes the subject. He gets up from his seat. "I think a storm is coming," he says, approaching the window. "It's getting dark out there. Looks like the wind is picking up, too." He turns to me. "I'm glad I found you when I did. I'm not sure I'd survive out there alone."

Rolling my eyes, I deadpan. "Flattery will get you nowhere." 

"I know," he says. "Been down that road more than once." Is he referring to me now? I'm lost. 

"Huh?" I blurt. 

He waves a hand. "It's nothing. Don't worry your pretty little mind about it. " 

"Pretty little mind? I'm not sure whether to take that as an insult or a compliment." 

He narrows his eyes, his voice almost sultry. "Would you prefer an insult over a compliment? Something tells me that's more your scene." 

"My scene?" Look at me, lost for words. Flustered even. That never happens. 

Chase laughs wholeheartedly. "You're so easy to rile up. You know that, Penny?" 

Raising one eyebrow, I reply. "Hmm, I suppose you think you know me. Would that be accurate, Chase?" 

He clears his throat before replying. "I know enough." 

Both eyebrows raise, shocked at his bold statement. "Oh really? If you know me so well, you won't mind answering a few questions."

Chase smirks again. This guy and his face. "I love tests. Bring it on, baby." 

"What's the stakes then?"  

"Hmm, if I get five questions right, then you let me stay."

"And what's in it for me?" 

Another smirk graces his face. "If I get any of them wrong, I'll cook you dinner." 

"Oh, yeah?" He nods, confirming the deal. "You're on."  

Sitting up straight on the couch with legs crossed, I begin the torture. "Ok, wise guy. What's my favourite colour?" 

Chase ponders the question, rubbing his chin. "Your favourite colour to wear is black, but I don't think that's your actual favourite colour." 

He looks at me, seeking a hint, but he finds no answer in my raised eyebrow. 

"Clock's ticking, genius." He locks eye contact with me before giving his answer. "Blue." "

Lucky break," I say, holding up one finger for a correct answer. "Next one will be harder." He simply smiles, tilting his head confidently. "Right then. Where did I go on my last holiday?" 

He flops back in the chair and crosses his leg, resting his ankle on his knee, arms spread across the back of the couch. "That's easy. You haven't taken a holiday in the past five years. Well, at least while you were with ... you know who. But I recall that you just got back from a holiday right before you got together." He pauses, looking at the ceiling. "I want to say, Italy." 

Intriguing. He's right, of course, but how does he remember that conversation from so long ago? Chase was celebrating Kyle's birthday at a club along with mates, while Julia and I were there for one of our friends' birthdays. Thinking back to it, I met Chase first. It was only after Kyle approached us that Chase introduced him to me, and of course, being his birthday, he begged me for a date as his gift. Active 2: I consider that if I had declined his offer all those years ago, then maybe I wouldn't be huddled up in this cabin right now. 

I clear my throat, holding up a second finger now. "Don't get too cocky there, mister. You still have to get three more questions correct." 

"I'm ready when you are," he says. 

"Ok, I'll be surprised if you get this one right. If I could choose a superpower, what would it be?" 

Chase raises his eyebrows, impressed. "Ooh, a challenge. I like it," he says. 

"I'll have to use my powers of deduction for this one. Let's see..." His voice trails off, sifting through the different options until he determines the one, he believes is correct. "Mind reading." 

My eyes narrow, fixed on him. "And what made you choose that?" 

"You like to appear abrasive, that others' opinions don't matter. Don't phase you. But deep down, you care quite a lot." He pauses, then adds, "More than you should." 

"Hmm," I say, raising a third finger. Chase looks pretty happy with himself. I need to knock this guy off his high horse. "Since you think you know me so well, this one is a two-for-one question. Tell me two hobbies I enjoy other than reading." 

Another smirk forms at the corner of his mouth. "Writing, and..." He's thinking again. "Drinking wine?" 

"Ha," I blurt. "Drinking wine isn't a hobby." 

"I was half right then," he declares. 

"Maybe, but you still only got four out of five, right. You best get to it," I say, nodding towards the kitchen. "And it better be worth it, or you'll be out on your ass in this storm." 

"Never fear. My cooking skills are next level," he beams. Whatever. I roll my eyes, relaxing back into my book while I wait for dinner to be served. 

I must've drifted off to sleep while reading. The smell of Italian food waking me. Chase wasn't exaggerating when he said he could cook, either. Damn, that guy has some serious talent in the kitchen. We sat opposite each other as we ate in almost silence, the wind whipping at the trees outside. A shiver ran through me as the temperature noticeably fell. 

Since he cooked, I cleaned up while Chase stoked the fire. The familiar chime of my favourite movie played in the lounge. What doesn't this guy know about me? I contemplate for a moment whether he could be that horrifying stalker from the movies, biding his time until he pounces, chasing me in the woods until my untimely demise. 

Drying my hands on the tea towel, I open another bottle of wine, pouring two glasses. Casually strolling over to Chase, I hand him a glass. He looks up at me with another of his infamous smirks. Something glistened in his eye, rattling me. Something is up, but I play along. If he's going to kill me, it can be after I finish this delectable glass. 

 "We're missing something," I say. He looks at me curiously. "Popcorn. Want some?" He nods and I scurry back to the kitchen, returning a few minutes later. Making myself comfortable in the centre of the couch, I pop my feet on the coffee table, crossing my ankles, popcorn resting in my lap. 

I grab a handful, piling it into my mouth. "Hey, are you going to share that?" he says, chuckling. 

"You've got two legs and a heartbeat. Come over here." He does, but not just to grab a handful. He settles comfortably beside me, practically taking over the bowl. "Are you right?" 

"Yep, thanks," he says, never taking his eyes off the television. I stare at him, brows furrowed for a long moment. He briefly turns, throws a cheesy grin at me, then returns to the movie. 

After the film ends, neither of us, tired. Hot chocolate seems fitting. We sip from opposite ends of the couch; him sitting up straight while I rest my legs along the seat. We chat about everything, and anything, until I have no clue how late it is. I'm actually enjoying myself in his company and force myself to stay awake just so he can make me laugh more. 

"You're tired, Pen. You should head to bed." 

"I'm ok. Just a little cold," I say, honestly. He pats the spot beside him for me to huddle up under the blanket. I swear it's innocent, as I move toward him. Rubbing my arms to warm me, I rest my head on his warm chest. 

"Better?" he asks. I nod. 

"Thanks Chase. You're the best," I whisper. In this half-asleep state, my mind jumbles with things I've avoided dealing with. I mutter without another thought, "Why wasn't I good enough for him, Chase?" I'm so tired, and we've been open in conversation tonight, so baring my vulnerability isn't a worry right now. Perhaps that's the wine though, I might feel different tomorrow.

He gently runs his hand over my hair, comforting me as he whispers, "He was never good enough for you." 

I remember nothing after that, but when I wake the next morning my head's resting in his lap, snuggled under the blanket which is pulled up to my chin. Turning to face him, Chase is also asleep, looking quite uncomfortable. Carefully, I creep off the couch, dashing to the bathroom before back to the kitchen to boil the kettle. It's chilly this morning, but the wind seems to have died down now. 

Watching Chase sleep is messy. His head's tilted, resting on the back of the couch, mouth wide open. A faint throaty snore emits from him. I don't know how he can sleep like that. I bet he has a sore neck today. Making two coffees, I place his on the coffee table before taking mine outside to check the damage. 

The clouds have gone now, but the snow is almost waist high. My heart skips a beat thinking he can't leave, yet my brain ... well, let's ignore her. Thoughts keep swirling as I sip coffee on the steps, remembering last night, remembering five years ago, then remembering the big event just days earlier. Guilt eats me as I realise something is stirring inside me. No, it's too soon. Way too soon. I try to shake it off, getting out of my head. Focussing on the horizon, I try to clear my mind, soaking in the calm after the storm. This place is truly amazing. I wish I never had to leave.

 I hear footsteps, and Chase joins me. He sounds groggy. "Thank you," he says, raising his mug. 

"You're welcome." We sit silently for a minute before I nudge him. "Guess you're stuck with me for another day." 

"Guess so," he deadpans. "It'll be tough, but I think I'll manage." 

I playfully slap his arm. "Asshole." He grins. There's that flicker again. "Are you flirting with me right now?" 

"Maybe," he replies. His eyes lock with mine briefly before glancing away. 

Well, this is awkward. I need to change the subject. "So," I say, "What's your plans for today?" 

He shrugs. "Dunno. Snow's too high to get to my car." Well, that's helpful. 

"I guess a walk is out of the question then," I say. I recall something from my childhood. "I think there are board games around here somewhere. You up for a challenge?" 

"Am I?" he retorts. "Always." I roll my eyes at his enthusiasm. 

"Come on then, grandpa," I say, standing from my spot. 

"After you, princess." 

Opening the Scrabble box, I set up the board, distributing tiles between us. Chase starts first at my insistence; I know what I've got up my sleeve, but I want to see if he knows what he's doing. He plays the word 'cute', horizontally, with minimal points. 

"Pfft, that's the best you've got?" I tease. 

"Just starting you off gently," he says, winking. 

"Whatever. This is how you do it," I say, placing the word 'lucky', vertically, getting two double-word points. 

He raises his brows twice before laying down his next word, 'kiss', horizontally. His letter 'I' lands on a triple-letter score, but that doesn't add up to much. That weird flicker shines in his eyes again. My stomach flutters. What's up with that? 

I shake it off, playing my next word; 'lust', starting at the 'L' from earlier. Two can play at that game. He reads it, then locks eyes with me, sending a shiver down my spine. "Wine," I say. "I'll get some." Jumping up from the seat, I dash over to the fridge, pulling out a bottle. I pour two glasses, downing mine before refilling, and returning to the table. 

"Did you just skull a glass of wine?" Chase says, laughing. 

With brows furrowed, I deny what he's obviously seen. "No. Shut up and play the game." 

He continues chuckling as he plays his next word, with a single letter 'X' tile, 'sex'. 

"You can't play that," I say. 

"And why not? You played 'UT' and 'SE'; those aren't words. At least mine's a real word," he says. His sultry gaze set on mine. 

Warmth rises from my neck, covering my face. I'm unsure whether it's embarrassment, or the wine, and I'm worried that it's in response to that look he's giving me. 

"Fine. You can have the damn word. But you're still losing." 

We keep going until there are almost no vacant spaces on the board. We both have three tiles left. I'm sure I'm pouting already; such a mature look. He places the last of his tiles, making the word 'Oblivious'. It seems pointed, but to what, I don't know. 

He places his hand on mine, resting on the table, and says, "Pen, what's the last word?"

It's as though there's an undercurrent to his words and actions. Is he hinting at something? Maybe he's been reading my mind and all the stupid things I've been thinking about him. I've only got three tiles. What can I make from this that also responds to his previous word? I'm limited here, but I hope he picks up what I'm putting down. 'Regret'. 

His eyes catch mine, and I'm sure I see worry reflecting at me. Oh my God, he's interpreted it wrong. Or wait, maybe he didn't. Shit. What am I supposed to do now? 

Chase must see the panic in my eyes, and in a moment, his expression changes. Calm and relaxed, whatever this tension, this electricity that's building between us, remains unspoken. 

It's his turn to suggest something to fill the time while we bide our time. "Movie?" 

My words catch in my throat, so I simply nod. He asks me to select a movie, since I lost the Scrabble game. While standing in front of the bookshelf, sifting through options, he settles on the couch. As I read the blurbs intently, he interrupts. 

"Penny, can I ask you something?" 

"Sure," I reply, eyes still on the DVD. 

He clears his throat. "What do you regret?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"I just sensed something off when you played that word." He pauses before continuing. "You know you can talk to me about whatever is on your mind, don't you?" 

I rotate on my heels, my eyes swiftly surveying his face, striving to interpret his message. Sucking in a deep breath, I respond. "I thought you didn't like it when I talk about Kyle." 

He grimaces before correcting his look. "I don't mind if it eases your worries a little." 

"Are you sure?" I ask. He nods, then pats the seat adjacent, gesturing for me to join him. I settle on the seat, facing him. Placing my hand on his forearm, I admit, "I've done a bit of soul searching since being here." He places a hand on my knee, reassuring me to continue. "I keep going back to that night..." 

"Which night?" he asks. 

"When I first met Kyle," I say, then add, "When I first met you." 

He fixes his eyes on mine, like he's staring into my soul. I've honestly never felt so vulnerable as I do right now. "Oh," he says, eyes deflecting from me. 

"Chase," I say, trying to get his attention. "It's not how you think." 

"How is it then?" I sigh. "I wish you hadn't introduced me to Kyle." 

His eyes narrow on me. "Do you mean you wish you hadn't met either of us, or do you mean..." His words trail off. 

"Oh, my goodness, Chase. Read between the bloody lines, will you?" I snap, frustrated. 

He smiles. "Do you want to know what I regret?" I nod, and he takes my hand as if preventing me from fleeing. "I regret I wasn't the one to ask you on a date, and I regret introducing you to Kyle. Mostly, I regret not having the confidence to tell him I wanted you for myself." 

Lost for words, I sit there, wide-eyed in shock. My eyes dart between his, trying to sense if this is some elaborate joke he's pulling on me. The only thing I can say is, "What?" 

Chase appears sheepish. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said anything." 

"And how do you feel now?" I say, almost whispering. 

He cringes, shaking his head. "You don't want to know." 

"Yes, I do," I say, intently. 

Chase pushes a stray lock of my hair behind my ear, then looks at me, holding my gaze for what seems like forever. "Honestly Penny?" he asks, and a squeak emits from my throat. "I'm in love with you." He pauses, letting his words soak in. "I have been for years." 

Well, shit! I did not see that coming. 

And while his words are completely unexpected, I'm freaking delighted that these emotions I have are not imaginary, and not unrequited. You know what, I'm just going to put myself out there for once. 

He looks stunned as I wrap my arms around his neck. Leaning into him, I delicately brush my lips against his. At first, he's frozen and unmoving. Perhaps he wasn't expecting this either, but the longer my lips remain on his, the sooner he realises I mean business. Our lips part, inviting each other to taste what we've been missing. After a long while, we eventually part, both grinning. 

As I wipe the remnants of his kiss from my chin, I smirk over at Chase. "What took you so long?" 

And with the familiar smirk, he replies. "Some things are worth the wait. Wouldn't you agree?"